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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206914">first</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag'>Random_ag</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bendy and the Ink Machine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Character, Canon Autistic Character, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Non-Explicit, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, Suggestive Themes, Sweet, thats it, theyre in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:29:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically speaking, Charlie is taller than Thaische.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>first</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s hard to be intimidating when you’re short.</p><p>It becomes slightly less hard when you have a cane, know how to make someone bleed with it, and several people are present when you give a demonstration of your skill.</p><p> </p><p>Technically speaking, Charlie is taller than Thaische.</p><p> </p><p>If, let’s say, he was to be put on some braces to help him stand upright, maybe with the aid of a pair of crutches to further sustain himself, he would be visibly taller than Thaische by at least a head and a half - which would be roughly 30 centimetres, or about 12 inches.</p><p>It’s just not very obvious.</p><p>And it doesn’t actually matter.</p><p> </p><p>Not when Charlie is laying face up on his bed.</p><p> </p><p>Thaische looks down on him. He’s sitting on his stomach with all of his light weight, his legs spread so his knees lay on the mattress by the other’s sides, and by his gaze one could imagine he’s planning a murder.</p><p>He is not.</p><p> </p><p>“Now.” he repeats.</p><p>“In a minute. Can I, can I make you wait just another minute? You’re wonderful.”</p><p> </p><p>No answer.</p><p> </p><p>Thaische holds Charlie’s hand, dragging it up to his face. The fingers are still kind of soft to kiss; animating callouses haven’t taken over them yet. The palm turns to cup his cheek. He leans into it. The other rises from his hip a little unstable to brush strands of hair away from the freckled face.</p><p>A digit fights to stick into the orange eye and get away from it simultaneously. A soft apology, no answer. Thinner fingers run across his nose and face as if tracing a map. They move down his neck and then up again, they trace his jaw and clavicles, his shoulders, his ears. They open like a spider web to contain the whole head within their grasp.</p><p>He has such a lovely wide smile.</p><p>Hasn’t he always had it?</p><p>It tastes sweet.</p><p>Maybe it has always tasted like this and he never knew.</p><p>It feels nice.</p><p>This.</p><p>Looking and finding and searching and discovering all the things they’ve been seeing for years nearly every day or week or month.</p><p>It feels nice.</p><p>He pushes the hands down - down to his neck and chest and waist until they’re resting and pressing gently on his hips again. It’s not hard to find his hips (he’s so thin, it’s like they’re trying to poke out of his skin).</p><p>He just likes the pressure.</p><p> </p><p>“Now.”</p><p> </p><p>Charlie nods and tries to adjust himself a little.</p><p> </p><p>It’s good.</p><p>It’s very.</p><p>Very.</p><p>Good.</p><p>Thaische hums.</p><p>It’s also a lot.</p><p>Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.</p><p>It’s seriously a lot.</p><p>He raises his head, his eyes closed.</p><p>Up. Down. Slowly. Up. Down. Slowly.</p><p>Warm, good, slow, good, heavy, good, move, good, still, good, lot, lot, lot, lot, lot.</p><p>Something soft and humid and too much and his hand flies away with a jerk of his entire body that makes him clench hard and hiss.</p><p>A mouth moving to say I’m sorry without making any sound.</p><p>Noise would make this worse and he knows it.</p><p>So kind.</p><p>Charlie presses on his thigh.</p><p>Good.</p><p>Good.</p><p>Good.</p><p>Pressure is good.</p><p>Shoulders relax, tension is relieved, everything goes softer.</p><p>More.</p><p>Pressure is good.</p><p>Pressure cancels out the rest a little.</p><p>A breath.</p><p>It’s good.</p><p>It’s good.</p><p>Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.</p><p>A little faster.</p><p>Sometimes when his eyes flutter open for a couple seconds he can see him mouth I love you on repeat.</p><p>His head tries to dive in the pillow, his grey eyes are closed.</p><p>His fingers are wrapped around him strong yet gentle.</p><p>He’s so pretty.</p><p>Up, down, up, down, up down.</p><p>So pretty.</p><p>Up, down, I love you, up, down, I love you.</p><p>Three fingers press on his lips.</p><p>A minute later they emerge with a gag.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ok?”</p><p>“That was a mistake.”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t a particularly thrilling experience.</p><p>Let’s agree to never do that again.</p><p> </p><p>Up, down. Up, down, up, down.</p><p>It’s good.</p><p>It’s so good.</p><p>Soft, warm, gentle, good.</p><p>Charlie wraps around him, digs into his skin.</p><p>So good, so good, so good.</p><p>Up down, up down, up down.</p><p>Is it over? It feels so soon. They shake a little more in their grasps, immovable, huffing as they try to hold themselves in place with low purring hums curling tenderly inside their throats. Is it over? Their fingers catch each other and intertwine. A little more. Just a little more. It’s good. It’s very good.</p><p> </p><p>Thaische stands up with his arms still stiffened and his legs wobbling as he leaves the room.</p><p> </p><p>Something happened?</p><p>Maybe the kiss.</p><p>Did he go outside?</p><p>Away?</p><p>He doesn’t fear anything, does he.</p><p>He could have.</p><p>Maybe he’s on the way home.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>He probably didn’t like it then.</p><p>But his arms were stiff.</p><p>Maybe he just didn’t like him.</p><p> </p><p>When the younger boy’s body slaps on his still a bit humid from the shower and his arms curl around his neck, Charlie’s first - a little relieved - thought is, oh.</p><p>So he didn’t go out in the streets butt naked.</p><p> </p><p>His pale lips press tentatively against his temple. A cinnamon mouth replies by catching them.</p><p>“I love you.” he whispers when he’s freed.</p><p>Charlie’s arms pin him down against him with a pleasant warmth. He smells of strange, exciting things that he doesn’t recognize - except for a tint of lemon.</p><p>Thaische hides his face in the crook of his neck and closes his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“ ‘ove you too.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s raining a little outside.</p><p> </p><p>It’s stopped for a while when Thaische leaves from the window.</p><p>Charlie holds onto his fingers for as long as possible before letting go.</p>
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